I love Simonoff's memoir, especially, the way she describes grieving and sleeping as near-simultaneous things that the mourning family does together at the beginning of the book, almost like sleepwalking through intolerable, incomprehensible grief. It really persuades me that grief has a certain rhythm akin to sleep, where we seek shelter from the storms that ravage our souls. The wild animal gnawing at the heart will be soothed by the rhythms of this storytelling.